


Imperfect Magic

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years sharing a dorm with his classmates has done nothing to alleviate Scorpius Malfoy's anxiety about the size of his penis. Fortunately, he has a plan to rectify the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfect Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless fluff written for the inaugural round of HP Spring Fling.

Scorpius rummaged hurriedly through his trunk. Nearby, the common room was abuzz with the sounds of chatter and excitement as students prepared for the first Hogsmeade excursion of the school year.

As his classmates' footsteps began to fade, and joyful voices became increasingly distant, Scorpius started to panic.

"Where the bloody hell is it?" he muttered, flinging socks and underpants over his shoulder as he continued to search: "I _know_ I hid it in here _somewhere_ … "

Plunging a hand into the furthest corners of the rectangular box, his forearm buried in robes, jumpers and the occasional scarf, Scorpius extended his long fingers hopefully, nails scratching against the timber surface.

"A-ha!" he cried out as a fleshy fingertip came into contact with a vial of cool, smooth glass. Carefully removing the vial from the trunk, Scorpius got to his feet. He held the object out before him, allowing its contents to glint momentarily in the grey light of the morning: the light caught what appeared to be a very fine dust.

It was, in fact, a diluted and crystallised form of Swelling Solution, and the result of many early morning hours spent huddled over his concoction in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

For the past six years, Scorpius had, like all young witches and wizards of his age, shared a dormitory with four of his classmates. This situation, however, had done nothing to alleviate his adolescent insecurities: specifically, his doubts about the size of his penis. Oh, it was not that it was small, as such (he had seen enough to know that) but, rather, that he feared it would be somehow - _inadequate_.

And he simply couldn't bear the thought of Al's green eyes dimmed by the light of shattered expectation; or the sigh of resignation that could only ever mean, "It'll have to do."

Of course, it was only recently that he and Al had been doing … whatever it was that they had been doing (Scorpius didn't know the technical termfor snogging-and-groping-in-every-darkened-corner-of-thecastle).

Even so, Scorpius felt it best to be prepared for any situation that may arise; and so he had formulated a plan to conceal his lack of endowment.

He closed his fingers around the cylinder and held it, tight, against his palm.

A self-satisfied smirk plastered across his fine, pointed features, Scorpius lunged across his bed and, with a single swift motion, collected a tube of lubricant that he kept hidden in the top drawer of his bedside table. Standing upright once more, he stuffed the vial, lubricant and a pair of protective gloves that he'd acquired during a recent Herbology lesson into his pockets before bolting through the castle to join his classmates.

***

Taking a deep breath, Scorpius pushed open the door of the Three Broomsticks. It was packed with Hogwarts students, joking, laughing and swilling Butterbeer.

Weaving his way through he room, his eyes scanned each face for a sign of Al.

_He **had** said the Three Broomsticks, hadn't he?_ Scorpius wondered, nervously biting his bottom lip as he moved amongst people: _Yes, yes – I'm **sure** he did."_

And yet, Scorpius could see no sign of him. His heart thudded, the rhythm of his pulse pounding in his throat.

Slightly panicked, and fighting the feeling of hurt that began to rise in his chest, Scorpius turned to leave, as all his hope and pride began to crumble under the crushing weight of rejection.

"Scorpius!"

He pivoted at the sound of a familiar voice and was greeted by the sight of Al, waving in Scorpius' direction.

"I thought you'd forgotten," Scorpius admitted sheepishly as he slid into the seat beside Al.

"What? You think I'd miss this?" Al said, placing one hand on Scorpius' thigh under the table. Al trailed his hand over Scorpius' leg, fingers skimming the fabric of his trousers, before resting his hand in the crevice between thigh and groin.

"I don't mind telling you, Scorpius," he continued in a low, rumbling voice that caused a rosy pink blush to rise in the other boy's usually pale cheeks, "That I'm a little offended."

Scorpius shifted awkwardly in his seat as Al's hand became more insistent under the table.

"Hang on," Scorpius croaked, rising from his seat as he spoke, "Bathroom."

***

Scorpius pushed his way quickly into the men's room. Flushed, and safely ensconced in an empty cubicle, he flipped the lid of the toilet down. Emptying his pockets, he set the vial, lubricant, and his wand down upon the lid.

"Here we go," he breathed as he slipped his trousers and underpants down over his slender thighs, allowing them to bunch at his ankles; his belt buckle clattered loudly against the linoleum floor.

Standing, naked from the waist down, Scorpius picked up his wand and conjured a small bowl into which he emptied the crystallised Swelling Solution. Scorpius then added a liberal squeeze of lubricant to the mix before combining the ingredients of his strange brew.

Satisfied that the altered lubricant had been sufficiently mixed, Scorpius withdrew the gloves from the trousers bunched at his feet, slipped his slightly shaking hands into them and began to slowly apply the enchanted gel to his flaccid prick.

The taut, pink skin of Scorpius' cock began to respond almost immediately: twitching, tingling and …

"Scorpius!" Al hissed on the other side of the door.

Startled, Scorpius stumbled over his trousers and landed awkwardly against the loo.

"Shit!" he said, as he scrambled to his feet.

"You in there, mate?" Al asked, tapping softly against the door.

"Yep, I-I won't be long," Scorpius stammered in reply. Looking down, Scorpius' eyes widened in shock: _Merlin_, it was … _big._; increasing in both girth and length with each passing moment.

Behind him, Scorpius heard the cubicle door unlatch.

Without thinking, he turned around to face his companion: "Al! What are you doing?"

Al, though, didn't reply. He merely stood, mouth agape, and stared down at the massive appendage between Scorpius' legs.

"Al?"

"Bloody hell, Scorpius! I knew you liked me but – "

"Oh, shit!" Scorpius exclaimed, looking down at his cock once more.

Scorpius groaned loudly as his skin was stretched over the throbbing flesh in ways it what never meant to be stretched.

"Al, help me," he implored, "Get me out of here!"

"Alright, alright," Al said hurriedly, "We've just … just… got to get you to Pomfrey."

"I can't go out there!"

"Well, either we leave this cubicle, Scorpius, or you embark on what will undoubtedly be a lucrative career as a human tripod."

Scorpius whined in pain, "Alright," he said, nodding in acquiescence.

"Alright. Come on, hitch up your pants and we'll go out the back way."

***

As the moon cast wan rays of light into the hospital wing, Scorpius tossed in his bed: though Madam Pomfrey had been able to reverse the effects of the Swelling Solution, he was still suffering some discomfort.

Frustrated – at both himself for his actions, and at his inability to sleep – he lay, staring at the ceiling and cursing his own foolishness.

He was in the middle of a particularly vitriolic diatribe when he felt the edge of the mattress sink under weight that was not his own.

"What the hell – "

"Relax," Al's familiar voice intoned as he removed his father's Invisibility Cloak, "It's just me."

"Oh," Scorpius said quietly, unable to meet Al's gaze.

"How are you – how is it – does it still hurt?" Al asked, searching for words though he wasn't entirely sure what it was he wanted to say.

Scorpius shrugged, "It's not too bad, really. All things considered."

"Yeah."

The silence lay heavy and awkward between them as Al shifted on the end of the bed.

"You didn't have to, you know," he said.

"Hmm?"

"You didn't have to. Need to. Do that, I mean," Al said.

"I know," Scorpius sighed, "It's just that, well – " he paused, unsure as to whether he should continue.

"What?" Al asked, gently prodding the injured boy's knee.

"Well, it was just that … I didn't want to disappoint you." Scorpius rolled his eyes as he spoke, cringing at his own ridiculousness.

Al smiled, his teeth flashing in the half-light of the room. He moved, quietly, leaning across Scorpius.

"You really needn't have worried," he whispered into his ear, his warm tongue flitting across the lobe as he began to kiss his way down Scorpius' neck.

"Al," he said in a hushed voice, "Are you mad? What do you think you're doing?"

Scorpius, however, received no verbal reply to his question: merely an index finger pressed firmly to his lips, bidding him to be quiet.

Inching his way down the bed, Al tugged Scorpius' briefs over his hips, exposing his slender cock as it lay, soft, against his inner thigh. Gently grasping the shaft, Al raised Scorpius' prick to his mouth. He pressed his lips to the tip, slowly circling the head with his tongue.

Scorpius responded with a short, sharp gasp and a jerk of his hips.

Al looked up from between Scorpius' legs: "Shit, I'm sorry, does it hurt?"

"No," Scorpius said, "I mean yes. It does. Hurt. Just a little … "

"I'll stop, we can … "

"No. Don't," Scorpius said hoarsely: _"Don't."_

Scorpius, sitting up slightly, reached down. Pressing his palm to the back of Al's neck, he ran his fingers up over his scalp, and through his hair. Al responded with a series of muffled grunts and slurping noises as he took him deeper into his eager mouth, his inexperienced tongue fumbling over the shaft, and his teeth scraping intermittently at the still-tender skin.

Scorpius, aching, exhausted and consumed by the tactile pleasure of Al's mouth wrapped firmly, excitedly, _hungrily_ around him, soon came. Shuddering, he left a sticky trail over Al's tongue and lips.

As Scorpius leaned back, he had to concede that this night – borne of awkwardness and humiliation – had, in fact, been oddly, utterly enchanting; and possessed of an imperfect magic all its own.

And, he realised, as he reached forward to run his thumb over Al's still-wet bottom lip, he would not have had it any other way.


End file.
